When the moon rises over Berlin

      The dark evening laid quietly on Berlin, shrouding it in a haze of mystery and uncertainty. The pre-sunset twilight passed quickly, but the bright streaks of the sun still lingered in the sky, not wanting to leave, there were more and more people on the streets, they piled up and poured out of the buildings, from the basements where they worked. Watching from the SD headquarters Wieland Lange turned his head and was exploring the surroundings. Heinrich’s case was very interesting and led to quite a complex labyrinth of relationships. He was connected to many people both in Germany and abroad. There was no way to check all of them. Wieland was lost in his thoughts, he replayed the Ingrid, Wilhelm and Heinrich connection over and over in his head, but something was not adding up. The holes were too big in this case. It was as if this piece of the puzzle was out of their reach because it was leading to much bigger investigation. A sudden phone call startled him a little. He slowly picked up the receiver, muttered that he was there and began to listen. It was Adler speaking. He was calling from his office. He was rambling, it was clear he was running. Though it was unusual for Adler. Wieland immediately realised that something urgent had happened.              “Adler, could you calmly explain what happened?”              “They found another body in Heinrich’s flat.”              “A body?”, Wieland asked in bewilderment, standing up and holding the receiver with one hand.              “Yes, a corpse. We’re going to put everything we have together now. The police are coming. Come with your folders. We have to do something, Wieland.”              “I’m on my way,” said Wieland as calmly as possible and hung up the phone. A haze of fear laid over Wieland’s soul, it was impossible to brush it away.       

      

***

             Everyone was sitting in silent tension, no one wanted to start talking, everyone had a pile of papers and no idea how to solve the cases. Adler kept the silence, sipping cognac from his flask. The case seemed a lost cause for him. No, he was not dramatic, but he did not have much hope. They were drowning more and more in a pile of facts that could not be pieced together. Ingrid’s death, then Wilhelm’s one, two other people were found dead afterwards: Heinrich and another young man he had not seen yet. The only thing that kept him from falling into his own thoughts was the cigarette smoke that Ehrman was blowing sitting close to him. It tickled Adler’s nose. Ehrman was taking long puffs, several cigarettes in a row, trying to calm his already frayed nerves, everyone in this room did not care about manners, they did not need to. Ehrman realised exactly that someone was methodically killing in Berlin, no matter what for. Someone was methodically destroying people who belonged to the black market. But who could it be? Ehrman leaned back in his chair, blowing smoke at the ceiling. Wieland, who sat sipping his coffee in slow sips, read Ingrid’s case file over and over again. She was proving to be even more into it than they had thought. Wieland realised that they could uncover even more than they had at the moment, it was only important to pull the right string sticking out, but which one? They had been running after simple theories, but they had no time to waste, they could not count on the police for help, they could help, but very cleverly and not for free. He caught a glimpse of Otto, the policeman had arrived, his squad had discovered the corpse. A man was slightly thin and pale, he was clearly in his forties and showing the first signs of aging. Otto was on the phone, checking out the details of the flat where another body had been found. It turned out to be one of Heinrich’s flats. Wieland could not wait to find out the details. He thought they were closer than ever. It might be not over yet, though. As he hung up the phone, Otto looked carefully at Adler, then at him. He was not going to keep quiet.              “Will you tell us what you found out?” began Adler, crossing his arms over his chest.              “This man was found dead about three hours ago today. We ran it through the databases. He is listed as Alexander Müller, who was given the name Arthur when he was adopted,” Otto was holding out a photograph of the man. “He’s a sheltered petty thief. He used to hang around cafes and small pubs. Stealing from tables. He left Germany when he was thirteen.”              “Why did you come to us?” asked Ehrman. For a second Otto was confused, not knowing what to say.              “We think Arthur was connected to Ingrid and Wilhelm, we deduce from the fact that he was found in Heinrich’s flat and that this photo was found with him,” Otto put one of Ingrid’s last photos on the table. The room went silent. One could only hear typewriters whirring and telephones ringing.              Wieland’s loud voice sharply broke the silence of the room, everyone turned their eyes to Wieland.              “Gentlemen, let’s get to work right now, make a plan and at least start doing something, it’s impossible to be stuck in theories forever.”              “No, we haven’t found much,” Otto replied softly and politely to Wieland.              “Wieland, don’t fidget, everyone here is already on edge”, Adler closed the flask, opened the folder and started reading Ingrid’s file he had brought with him again.              “Mr Otto, you won’t have more in an hour than you have now. Let’s make theories from what we all have now,” Wieland, taking control, stood up, walked over to the wall and began to write names on a large piece of paper. “So, we have Ingrid Fuchsmann,” he wrote her name in the middle. “She died last December, that’s where this whole thing started. What do we know about her?”              “She was the only daughter of Vernet Fuchsmann, the CEO of the chemical company Farben,” said Adler. Wieland wrote it all down on the second sheet of paper hanging next to him.              “She was also a black market worker,” put his comment Ehrman, Wieland wrote it down as well.              “She was also one of the regular guests at Goebbels’ country house with the other girls,” Otto said uncertainly but clearly.              “I wonder how the ordinary policeman know that,” Adler cowered, glancing cynically at the man.              “Nevermind, Adler, it’s not “how” that matters now, but what they know,” corrected Wieland. “Anything else?”, everyone shook their heads. “Good. Let’s move on.”              “So, the next victim in the chain was Wilhelm Fuchsmann, Ingrid; s elder brother. What do we know about him.? Apart from being a trained pilot and a former chemistry student at the University of Berlin. He also was a black market man.”              “He took a rather large sum of money from the party’s safe deposit box,” Adler sniffed his nose when he said that. “In November of that year, he didn’t explain why, but two weeks later he returned every penny of it, which aroused suspicion.”              “He sold the goods, that’s why he returned it,” Ehrman turned to Adler.              “He has also been summoned to court several times for traffic offences,” said Otto, sitting on the right side of the board. “He was repeatedly deprived of his licence.”              “Just for speeding?”, Ehrman raised his eyebrows at Otto’s question.              “No. He hit a man once,” Otto said wistfully. “Fortunately for him it was an old man from the opposition party, it was in 1933, so he was not prosecuted. There would have been a big scandal in the press, his father did not need it. The case was hushed up.”              “OK. We’re assuming Ingrid and Wilhelm worked together. Ingrid was in charge of the money side, she transferred and executed the money transactions. Transmitting the money. Wilhelm, on the other hand, brought the goods,” concluded Wieland.              “Wait, isn’t the black market set up so that you sell something and get paid for it?”, Otto looked at the piece of paper.              “Unless it’s a large sum of money,” Adler corrected him. “The amount of money Ingrid and Wilhelm went into this game with, believe me, is nothing compared to that.”              “Now we have to think about the two bodies found in the flats of a certain Heinrich. What was at his flat where Arthur was found?”, he turned to Otto.              “There were fake passports and a bunch of phones. They also found an encrypted diary, which they’re deciphering now. And a bunch of letters and documents.”              “There is an assumption that he started interacting with the black market immediately after the war,” added Otto.              “Yes, it looks like that, but what was the connection? He went into hiding for a reason,” wondered Wieland.              “Maybe he was between continents,” suggested Adler. “The black market is all over the earth. They were probably bringing goods from China and Egypt as well, there had to be a connection. If he’s somehow connected to Britain and America, then it makes sense why he’s needed,” finished Adler.              “But then who is Arthur?”, Ehrman turned to Adler and fell into silence.              “I think they were working in Britain and shipping goods onwards,” Wieland snapped his fingers. Everyone instantly listened to his words. “Just think about it, Ingrid and Wilhelm were working here. Maybe they were collecting goods from Europe and sending them to Britain. Heinrich was the liaison, Arthur was the one who received it and…” he hesitated. “Someone else was shipping it. Or maybe even working for Britain, someone has to serve the market domestically, too. But who? It had to be someone working there,” Wieland was lost in his thoughts. “If Arthur came, then someone came with him. We need to find this person. Adler, you interrogated Werner and Wilhelm, did they talk about someone?”, — Adler opened the interrogation file and flicked his eyes round, stopping his finger on a line.              “Yes, Holly, it mentions someone called Holly, who left Germany and neither Wilhelm nor Wernet know for sure whether Ingrid was in contact with her or not. I think it’s her. We should send out her photos everywhere.”              “What makes you so sure?” asked Ehrman. “Maybe it’s another Holly. Wilhelm said he didn’t know if they’d been in touch or not.”              “Because Wilhelm realised the danger. If we started digging for Holly, we’d find them all. He averted suspicion. We need to get all the police up and look for someone who would want to flee the country or the city,” added Adler. “I think she’s already realised she’s being hunted. We should close all roads and exits immediately. At least until tonight.”              “Adler, do you realise what you’re saying?”, Wieland said in confusion.              “Wieland, if we don’t catch her alive, we’ll have another dead body and then we definitely won’t reach the killer.”              Wieland exhaled slowly realising that there was common sense in his words. Besides, Adler was right about one thing. They needed to act faster than the killer.